seen from China
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from United States
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seen from United States
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seen from United Kingdom
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▄ ⠀ ▍ ⠀ ♱ ⠀ 墮落天使,⠀⠀⠀ ⎯⎯ ⠀🩸
⠀ ֵֵ ⠀ ⠀ ֹ ⠀ ⚓️ æ. #𝓗ؗ olo 𝓬̊̈͟𝓪͒̾͟𝓾͚͚̲̝͇̔ͮ͂͗ͦ͟𝓼̽̈͊͟𝓽̂̾̾͑ͣͤ͟𝓸
10:00
You were sick. Not cute lil sneeze sick, not sniffles and tea sick, but the kind of sick that made your body ache in places you didn’t even know could hurt. Your head was splitting, your throat bloody raw, and your nose wouldn’t let you breathe for more than three seconds at a time. The flu had you incredibly down bad.
And worse than that—you hated feeling alone when you were this way.
Your boyfriend Stephon had been working on his laptop in the living room all afternoon, earbuds in, trying to catch up on film and messages from his team. You’d already called him into the bedroom more times than you could count, and even though you knew you were pushing it, you couldn’t help it.
“Steph…” Your voice came out weak, half-whine, half-plea.
A beat later, you heard the scrape of his chair against the floor and his footsteps. He appeared in the doorway, leaning a shoulder against the frame, laptop tucked under his arm. His expression was flat but familiar, you knew that look all too well. He was tired, but not enough to actually get mad at you.
“That’s the fourth time in, what… ten minutes?” he said, voice low, a little amused. “What you need now?”
You sniffled, clutching your blanket tighter around yourself. “Just… come lay down with me. Please.”
He shook his head profusely, the corner of his mouth tugging up. “Girl don’t nobody wanna lay down with sicky.”
You frowned, instantly guilty. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’m sorry I asked.” You rolled over to face the wall, hoping he’d just go back to his film.
Instead, the bed dipped under his weight. You felt the heat of him sitting behind you, then his hand brushed across your forehead, pushing the damp strands of hair out of your face. His touch was cool compared to your fevered skin.
“Don’t do that,” he muttered. “You know I’m not leaving you like this.”
You peeked back at him. His laptop was already on the nightstand, forgotten. “What happened to not wanting to laying down with ‘sicky’”
“I don’t,” he said simply. “But I want you straight more than that. So.” He pulled the blanket up around your shoulders, tucking you in like you were liable to slide off the bed. “You hot or cold?”
“Cold,” you admitted, even though you were already wrapped in half the blankets in the apartment, and sweating like crazy.
He clicked his tongue, stood up, and came back with the hoodie he’d left draped on the back of a chair. He helped you slide your arms into it carefully, tugging the hood up over your head when you shivered.
“There,” he said, settling back down. “Now stop acting like you freezing in the middle of August.”
The smell of him, his laundry detergent and something warmer, the faint scent of his cologne was comforting. You snuggled into it instantly. “Thanks.”
“Mhm.” He leaned back against the headboard, opening his laptop again, but when you shifted around restlessly, he sighed and closed it. “Y/N, you really not gon’ let me get nothing done, bruh?”
You looked up at him, sheepish. “…i’m just trying to get comfortable”
He chuckled, low and quiet, shaking his head. “You really something else.” He patted his lap. “C’mere mama, stop all that moving around.”
It took effort, but you scooted over and curled up with your head against his thigh. His hand found the back of your head automatically, slow strokes through your hair.
“You straight?” he asked.
“Yeah,” you mumbled, eyes already heavy.
For a while, the room was quiet except for the sound of your breathing. His phone buzzed a few times, but he ignored it, thumb still dragging absent circles against your scalp. Every so often, he adjusted the blanket when you kicked it off or tucked it tighter when you shivered.
But no matter how comfortable you got, your brain wouldn’t shut off. Your body was exhausted, but your thoughts kept spinning. You shifted again, huffing. “I can’t sleep.”
“I noticed,” he said, dry but not unkind. He adjusted, sliding down until he was lying beside you. His arm hooked around your waist, pulling you against his chest. “Alright, relax. Breathe.”
You tried, pressing your face into his hoodie. But after a few minutes, you groaned softly. “It’s not working.”
He kissed the top of your head, brief and warm. “You want me to talk to you?”
You tilted your head up at him. “Talk to me?”
“Yeah,” he said like it was obvious. “When I can’t sleep, I just listen to somebody else until I knock.”
You thought about it. “…What would you even talk about?”
He shrugged, his lips brushing against your hair. “Shit, anything. Don’t matter. You just need my voice in your ear, right?”
You gave a weak laugh. “That sounds freaky and cocky as fuck.”
“Girl ew,” he murmured. “That’s just you.”
So he talked. About random stuff—nothing deep, nothing rehearsed. A story about his teammates getting on each other on the plane. How he almost missed the bus in college once and the whole team made fun of him for. The kind of little things that didn’t matter but seemed to calm you anyways.
His voice was always comforting though you’d never admit that, whether he was talking you through a nut or explaining film he had to study.
You were absolutely enamored by him, everything about him: from the top of his head to the soles of his feet. Not even your mother would dare to jump in the bed with you when you were sick like this. You loved the way he loved you, never nonchalant but calmly yearning for you. Each word pulled you closer to sleep, your body sinking heavier against him.
“You listening?” he asked after a while.
You hummed, barely awake.
“Good. Don’t make me tell the story twice.”
You smiled faintly against his chest, your eyelids finally too heavy to fight. The last thing you felt was the slow drag of his palm over your back and the quiet press of his lips against your forehead.
“Go on, knock out,” he whispered. “I got you.”
And for once, you did.
puedes hacer un mb tropical de karina con bio y nombres para destacadas pls???
👅ㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ㅤ𓉢ㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ㅤㅤ▍ㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ㅤ💧ㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏，⠀ㅤ ㅤ❚ ❘ ❙ㅤ⎯⠀⠀
𝐑𝐆ㅤㅤ⓺⠀ㅤ 𝟮𝟬ㅤㅤ 💲🌴 ⎯⎯
⠀ ╱ ╲ 🫵🏻 ضܑܮܢ ⠀┄ EX꯭T꯭A꯭SIS
Highlights
#🌴 ` ̧▬▭
𝗚𝗥𝗔𝗙ITTI 🥷🏻
ㅤ▚ ࣪ ⓱ 👅
© 💦 ۗ ▬⃜
Y'all can call me a doctor now. 💅 💅 💅 (passed my final exams of med school--with 3 Honours out of 6 subjects)
I've decided to kill my long standing imposter syndrome by doing some humble bragging.😭✋️
28 oct 2025
one month into medschool and i’m already behind but welp, everyone is. they do 5-6 topics/chapters a day and don’t go fully in depth according to our prescribed textbooks so we have to do that by ourselves when we get back after 8 hours of classes. it’s gotten really tiring and overwhelming lately cuz staying away from home does affect you in many ways :(
doing laundry is another pain but eh okay, i’ve kinda gotten used to it now.
anyway, today was a much better day than usual. it’s 7.30 pm only and i finished like 3 chapters of physiology (ignoring the fact that they’re the first three chapters, i’ll just take the dopamine hit) i’ll now proly do anatomy or revise biochem for tmr’s tutorial class.
i also have a weird bruise on my leg that has a really solid centre and keeps spreading down my leg so eh concerned but i don’t have time for that 😍
anyway- lovely updating.
have a wonderful day,
h
💌
Hello😭 I am a final year medical student ('22 batch)(desi) and I DESPERATELY need a study partner of sorts. Like someone who could tell me to lock tf in and kinda motivate me to study? I haven't studied ANYTHING yet (I mean almost nothing) . Help a fellow bitch out😭😭😭
Histology, you’re absolutely beautiful but respectfully GO SIT ON A FCKING CACTUS UGHHH WHY THE HELL ARE YOU MANDATORY FOR MED
